The problem is, I get this feeling and I don’t know how to put it into words. does that make me a bad writer? I want to write about that feeling I get when I close my eyes and take a deep breath and about the rapturous coolness that flows through my body and gives me the chills. Standing outside staring into an endless oblivion of morning sunshine and hills of soft green grass fill me with this great sadness that I crave so deeply. It is sweet and embracing and like taking a dip in a pool on a hot summer’s day. It’s like coming up for fresh air. It’s like staring out at a city I yearn to know, in awe of the dawn’s sun warming the cold winter morning with a cup of coffee in my hand and a lover to the side of me. It’s when I am in a coffee shop and all I can smell is the smell of coffee that demands to be smelled. It’s feeling the warmth of the coffee cup as I stare out at beautiful people and the beautiful morning. The simple hustle and bustle of everyday life. It’s like being in a library or bookstore, surrounded by millions of books and I feel exactly where I need to be and things just CLICK. It’s when everything is like it is in the movies and music videos and it’s all a perfect cliché. It’s everything. It’s so wild, yet it is my only calm. It feels like home, and winter, and sweet kisses of sadness, and morning sunlight, and the smell and taste of coffee that insists to be smelled and tasted. It’s that feeling that is the feeling that I feel when I feel most alive. It’s the feeling that I love to feel.
— meliorismistic // problems.